Skyscraper
by Thatzly
Summary: Despite that old 'Sticks and Stones' saying, words can hurt, and after over thirty years of hurtful words, it was a wonder how they hadn't gotten to this point sooner. Sensitive content inside...as well as plenty of Shules.
1. Chapter 1

_Beta'd by redwolffclaw! Thank you so much you wonderful person you! _

* * *

"Jules, have you ever been up this high before?"

The blonde detective thought carefully, trying to consider her words and her current environment. "Well, I've flown in an airplane so, yes."

Shawn shook his head, clearly not satisfied with that answer. "Don't be the guy who replaced Steve on Blue's Clues. You know that's not what I was looking for."

Juliet's brow furrowed momentarily and she let allowed her curiosity to act out, despite the horrible situation they were currently cornered into. "Shawn, you seriously watched Blue's Clues? C'mon! I was sixteen when that show came out. That would have made you—"

Shawn cut her off proudly. "Eighteen!" He smiled at her and momentarily Juliet could feel warmth emanate off of him, rather than the cold distant snowman he'd been recently. She should have known that he would have a meltdown eventually. There were so many signs; trying to repay his fines to Gus, being a slave to his dad with almost no (almost) arguments, and suddenly becoming the "clingy boyfriend" type, and all without an explanation to anyone.

She was his girlfriend, the one he could share intimate details with, but she hadn't seen this coming. It wasn't due to lack of trying though. Shawn was sneakier than a raccoon – minus the creepy masks he hated so much – and whenever she'd had the time to approach him he would just disappear off everyone's radar. Suspiciously, whenever she was stuck under a pile of paperwork or so dead tired she collapsed at just the sight of her bed, he would come back. He'd probably memorized everyone's schedule.

"Fine. Once when I was younger Frank took me to New York and we went to the top of the Statue of Liberty."

"Don't be silly Jules." Shawn waved her words off like they were offensive. "Everyone knows the Statue is in Washington, D.C."

"Shawn, that's the Pentagon," Juliet laughed. She could feel tears begin to prick at her eyes. Said eyes dropped to stare at her companion's right hand. "Shawn…"

"But you could see the people? Just like this?" His voice shook and he gave a small glance behind him. "Were they looking up at you?"

"They were, but only because they were jealous. Shawn this is different! Those people are terrified! I'm terrified!"

"I know! I know, Jules. Stop telling me things I already know."

Juliet's eyes darted right then left in an odd metronome. It was almost dizzying watching Shawn pace back and forth, his teeth gritting and grinding together, and his face grimacing due to years of emotional pain.

What could she do in an instance like this? Training didn't cover, 'How to Talk Your Boyfriend Down From a Ledge.'

_Think. Think. Think!_

_He needs to be brought back to earth, he's not thinking like himself. Talk to him. Distract him. Just don't let him leave you like this._ She'd heard that saying someone's name enough and touching them helped, but obviously touching was out.

"Shawn, can you at least put down the gun?" His eyes met hers. He looked down at the cold piece of metal and then back to his girlfriend.

He took in a deep breath. "I can't, Jules. I don't know what I want to do yet, but I know giving up my gun isn't one." He took in another breath and spun to hop up onto a cemented ledge. Shawn dramatically juggled himself over the edge, both to simply look below, as well as give off a quite dangerous implication. The gun he held was hugged to his chest protectively, and half his body balanced on one foot that barely glued him down to the building's ledge. He heard a startled squeak from behind him. For her, and only for her, did he take the time to ground himself, but time was running out. The steely cold of the gun in his right hand had already begun to seep into his eyes to squash the man she knew.

"They look like little collectable action figures, Jules. Do you think they're all here for me, or maybe there's a fireworks show starting soon? If they want a show, I'd be happy to give them one." Juliet's frown deepened at his words. "Oh! I see my dad." He leaned over slightly and cupped his mouth with his hands. "Hey dad! You got front row tickets, huh?" Shawn turned back to his girlfriend. "You know I think I want a refund on that dad action figure, or is he more of a Barbie doll? What do you think?" He stopped to point out what he saw was a very important fact. "Take into account that he takes bubble baths."

Dissociation…she was losing him.

"Shawn...you and I both know that those 'action figures' are living, just like you and me, and that your dad didn't come here to see a show. He wants the same thing as me, to have you SAFELY come down from there and return to ground level."

"Living action figures? Do you mean like Bride of Chucky?" Shawn quipped, completely ignoring her words of wisdom. "Because, Jules I'm not a serial killer doll nor was I reanimated from the dead. Although… I wouldn't mind being Buzz Lightyear, as long as I'm a life-sized version, and my weapons work."

Juliet bit her tongue for a long moment before calming herself and squashing any comments that could be harmful. She was sure that would only put them two steps forward and one step back, and at this point a single step backward was deadly.

"We're not toys, Shawn, and neither are they. If you jump, you could seriously hurt someone if you fell on top of them." She saw a flicker of understanding and worry that was then quickly veiled with his usually lovable humor. Today, however, it was more horrifying than humorous. "And don't you dare make any jokes about pan-"

"Pancakes, Jules! Make sure Lassie brings butter and syrup, maybe some eggs sunny-side up as the side-dish." Shawn rushed. God, she wished she had been faster on that one. His smile was bright, painfully bright. It was making her stomach twist and attempt to liquefy itself until it could escape through her throat easier. "Jules this is super important." His voice went low, as if he were about to tell her something scandalous.

She took a step forward, only to have her other half, raise the barrel of his gun to train on her, and then shuffle backward slightly more. In an instant her hands were raised and she backtracked, all the while staring at how the backs of his sneakers had cleared the edge. Anymore, and he would be teetering off into a very dangerous fall. For now, her distance seemed to have put her boyfriend at ease.

He chuckled darkly. "Thanks, Jules. I don't want to hurt you." He scratched his head. "Damn, now the moment's gone. I guess you'll never know more about my soon to be infamous pancakes. They'll be named…Shankes! Shanks? Wait...isn't that what they do in prison? Can you ask Marlowe? I mean you can call her right? Or I can wait for Lassie, I see his Crown Vic pulling up down there." Shawn cupped his hands to his face and crouched down to scream, "You're slow Lassie! Gus could've gotten here faster than— Oh…Gus! Up here!" Shawn waved as if they didn't see him traipsing along a building ledge. "The whole gang's here now. Wow, I'm popular tonight."

"Shawn, please. Don't joke about this."

Shawn's shoulders fell, and an unfamiliar expression crossed his face. It was something Juliet had never seen before, not until now. It was a mixture of sadness and...She squinted hard as she tried to perceive the emotions. Anger? No.

"Jokes are all I have left, Jules...If I don't keep doing this then I'll..."

"Then keep going Shawn, please. Do anything, dance, sing, just as long as you don't jump and leave me alone."

His head fell down to stare at the ground beneath him, and then she heard a single hiccup that soon turned to many more. Shawn's shoulders quivered and small droplets fall to the cement, darkening the area. The hand that held the gun went slightly limp as he brought it up to wipe face with the back of his hand quickly in embarrassment.

"Jules, I-I…" he raised his head, his chin quivering. Shawn looked behind him, and then at the young detective before him. His mouth parted, but only air rushed out. "I…don't think I've ever been this scared. I mean Justin Beiber comes pretty close, followed by Gremlin dolls." He sniffled loudly, and then looked to the side and counted on his fingers as he tried to solidify his ridiculous list. He let out a sob, and then somehow continued. "Wait, no, raccoons are pretty high, so they go above Justin Beiber." He gave a long sniff and looked up in an attempt to control his tears.

"L-look, Jules. The point is I'm scared to die, but I just can't see any more ways out. _Me,_ Jules, unable to find a way out, of all people. My fucking 'gift' could at least be useful for something you would think, but it's not." He groaned into his hands loudly.

Time was running out. If anything, his gift gave him the ability to see that officials were getting much more serious. Juliet had probably asked for time but that time was over. He wondered if they would use the giant parachute thing to catch him; _Pre-school all over again._ "Please don't tell anyone I said any of this. I have to look like a macho man up here, right? I mean jumping is my choice. Well, I have a gun I could use but…" He trailed off, deciding it best not to elaborate. "Sorry…" He sighed. "Jules, this is why you shouldn't be up here."

"Not be-? Shawn, where else should I be right now?" Juliet's mouth was slightly agape, and her heart clenched in pain. It was his pain that consumed her, his pain that had tears sliding down her face, and yet she had no idea how to help. He was scared, terrified, but what could she possibly do if he refused to tell her? Just like everything else in his personal life, he had always been silent, unless the topic was something that didn't relate to himself at all.

"Shawn," she croaked. "Please let us help. If no one else, let me help."

Shawn shook his gun as if shaking off the emotions that consumed and confused him. "No!" He lowered his tone and moved to a less harsh one. "No. Jules, I've been fighting this for so long and I'm just...I can't." He slid his unoccupied hand shakily down his damp face, over his red-rimmed eyes and stubble that had accumulated due to his lack of hygiene. "I'm tired of being both a fuck up and a freak, Jules. That's two strikes. I'm one X away from having a bingo."

"Shawn, if you're playing Tic Tack Toe that means nothing. It depends on how you use that X. If you do things right you'll win. If you do things wrong, you could lose. In this case I think it's a draw." As she said this she scooted forward steadily. If Shawn noticed, he made no action to punish it. "It'll probably always be as long as you're strong and don't let whatever or whoever O is defeat you, okay? Everyone has problems, Shawn, and some people don't have friends to help them. You're one of the lucky ones but you have to let us in that head of yours."

Juliet waited a moment to see if Shawn would comment on how close she'd managed to get. If she were to reach out at an arm's length she could brush the bottom half of his pants.

Seeing as his full attention was on her, she continued. "There are so many people who would be devastated if you were to hurt yourself, even your dad. I know you can sense how much he loves you, how much I love you, Gus, and-" She paused and cocked her head to the side and scrunched up her nose. "And even Carlton now that I think about it."

Shawn gave a wet laugh and sniffled. "Lassie? You've _got_ to be kidding me. He'd probably chase after a bone or his own tail before grabbing me in a big 'ol bear hug. Plus, I do not want his, Gus', or – especially not – my dad's lips on mine." He lifted a finger and tapped his lips. "These babies are reserved only for you."

"Well I can't use my reservation if you're not here." Juliet smiled. "You might have to stick around for a while until I decide to cash in, but I can't promise I'll want to cash in only once. Do I get a lifetime guarantee?"

A bright smile lit up Shawn's face, and he jumped from the ledge onto solid ground. Before she could say anymore, he all but bowled her over to take advantage of her open arms. His nose buried in her hair, ignoring the barely audible cheers coming from the action figures down below, and getting lost in the scent of his picture perfect girl.

"Gun," she whispered to him. Instantly the lock was activated and it was thrown to the ground behind her. "Thank you, Shawn."

"Want to cash in your kiss now?" Shawn asked as he pulled back to waggle his eyebrows at her suggestively.

Juliet looked up with a thoughtful finger on her chin.

"I guess I'll go let Lassie cash in then, I can hear him yelling."

As soon as the words left his mouth Lassiter and Gus burst through the rooftop door.

"Shawn don't-!"

"It's over buddy. Unless you want an encore, but I don't think Jules would be very happy about that."

"No, I wouldn't, Shawn." She hissed.

Gus sighed and fell back to look up at the sky, a suspicious twinkle at the edge of his eyes. His best friend would live, today at least. He couldn't count all the upcoming times Shawn would probably put his life at risk on a case, but he would take that over not having him around at all.

Straightening himself, Gus raced forward to induce a flurry of slaps upon Shawn's chest. "Shawn. Don't. You. Ever. Scare. Me. Like. That. Again! I don't like having to leave work because, 'That one psychic guy is about to jump off a building.' Building? Shawn? This nearly counts as a skyscraper!" He ignored the snide, _'Dude what building are you looking at?'_ and continued his rant. "I _will_ channel Miss. Cleo and murder you if you do this again."

"Ow! Gus, okay, okay! Although, I seriously doubt Miss. Cleo could re-kill me. Maybe you could just ask her if you could join me. We can be kindred—OW! Gus, I'm sorry! Free smoothies on me buddy, just no more hitting." Shawn held his now sore torso with a wince, once he thought he was cleared of Gus' wrath, he switched his focus onto his favorite beanpole-like Detective. Carlton seemed to be much less tense than when he'd kicked open the door…and he also seemed to have found his the discarded gun.

"O'Hara, this isn't yours…Spencer, where the hell did you find a gun!" Carlton looked closer. "Whose is this Spencer? Does this even belong to you?"

"Why, yes, Lassie, it is under the Spencer name."

Carlton's mouth gaped open. He clenched the gun in a white knuckled grip. "Oh you've got to be kidding—Did you steal this from Henry! Do you even have a gun license?"

Juliet shook her head and looked up to the sky as if to ask God what her partner was thinking. "Carlton! Not now!"

The older man pointed at him, continuing despite his partner's advice. "I can charge you on so many accounts right now, Spencer."

"Carlton! This is not a conversation we should have up here, on a rooftop, a very open, very dangerous rooftop."

"Aww, Jules. That's so cute. You're still afraid I'll crush those little action figures down there. Don't worry, I'm fine now, promise, and it was all you Lassie!" A devilish grin took over Shawn's face. Juliet huffed behind him. "You're lips are what totally brought me down. So, how bout we cash in on a big kiss and go home!"

"Sp-Spencer, what? Spencer don't you come near me!" Backing up did no good for the older Detective. "O'Hara!"

Juliet rolled her eyes and grabbed her boyfriend roughly by the arm before he could come in contact with the panicking Head Detective. "Shawn, not now. At least wait until we're downstairs."

Shawn grinned. "Hear that Lassie? I have my girl's approval! Now let's race each other down so we can get freaky. Elevator's one floor down; I think that'll be faster for us." With that, he took off behind Gus down the stairs.

"Spencer, w-what the—" Lassiter sputtered. "Seriously, O'Hara, what do you see in this man?"

The resounding footsteps running down to the flight of stairs slowed and then grew silent. Juliet merely shrugged and spoke a little louder than necessary, "There's no way I could explain it, I just love him and that's not going to change."

"Shawn!" Gus' voice shouted. "What are you waiting for? The air pressure from being up this high is messing with my head. I'm getting a headache."

"A-Ah, yeah, I'm right behind you buddy." Shawn said, stumbling over his words. "Wait why are you taking the stairs down all the way?"

"Gradual descent, Shawn."

"Come on son! I am not taking the stairs down."

"Then go with Juliet and Lassie," Gus huffed. "_I_ don't want my head to pop off." With that he spun on his heels and stomped down the stairs.

"We'll see you in two hours!" Shawn waved.

A strong arm led him into a hallway and to the elevator. "Like we'd let you take the stairs. At least with an elevator there's four strong walls and no railings to throw yourself over."

"Do you have any idea what sensitivity is Carlton?" Juliet snapped.

"It's okay, Jules." Shawn said, wrapping an arm around her waist. He laid his head on her shoulder to hide a grateful smile, because the hidden message behind Carlton's words were clear. _I'd miss you too, Lassie._

* * *

_New fandom? WHAAAT? I'm on the line about continuing this one or not. I was thinking about going the testing his limits in a real mental hospital route. Let me know what you think?  
_


	2. Chapter 2

**_I don't own Psych or it's characters. I only write about them._**

**_Mentions of events from this season (seven). "Juliet Takes a Luhvah" and "No Country for Two Old Men" but I could have missed other references...nothing ahead of where the episodes are now though so no worries!_**

* * *

"You going in to talk to him, or do you want me to do it?" Lassiter whipped his suit jacket back and rest his hands on his hips. Both he, and Juliet stared at a subdued Shawn through a one-way window into an interrogation room. His head was down and his muscles tense, staring at his fisted hands on the table before him. "Either way would be the same. He's on suicide watch, the Chief isn't going to just let him walk, O'Hara. He could have hurt someone." Juliet nodded quietly at his words, her face ashen and emotionless. The Head Detective cursed loudly. "Damn, I always knew he wasn't right in the head, but this?"

This granted him a hard glare. The older man threw his hands up in defense. "Look, obviously Spencer needs serious help, and as much as I hate to say it, I don't want his reputation stained over something like this. Get him to come willingly." Lassiter put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her lightly towards the door. "He'll listen to you before he'll listen to me. If it doesn't work we'll try Guster."

Juliet paused, her hand on the doorknob, and turned around to him. "Henry?"

"I don't trust him near Spencer yet." Lassiter found a toothpick in his pocket and began to chew on it. "The man looks like he's on the way to blowing a fuse or two. Might want to leave it until the morning."

"His son just tried to kill himself," she reminded her partner.

"Hey," Lassiter shrugged. "Your boyfriend, your call."

With a sigh, Juliet crossed her arms and grew silent. Shawn and Henry didn't get along very well, would this time be any different? Maybe his worry for his son would override his need to lash at him for trying to do something like this. She highly doubted that. Carlton, for once, had a better hold on reading the way this situation would play out emotionally.

"You're right, maybe you should send Henry home for the night."

"Good call, O'Hara." A pleased smirk slid onto the lanky Detective's face. He nodded, and headed out to find Henry, leaving her to take care of their favorite psychic on her own.

With lengthy intake of breath, she finally pushed the door open and entered the dragon. "Shawn, you know they want to have you committed, don't you?"

Shawn looked up, surprised to see Juliet standing near the door. With a small smile, he tossed his head to the side sharply and clicked his teeth. "C'mon, son. We both know that's not going to happen. I did my time already."

"_Shawn_," Juliet emphasized his name. "That was undercover, for a case. This was something that actually warrants twenty-four hour supervision, and an assessment."

"Heh, _ass_essment." Shawn chuckled. "You said ass, Jules. I had to."

A solid fist slammed down onto the metal table between them. "I need you to listen!" That seemed to zip his lips, at least for a while anyway. "Shawn, can't you see this is hard enough for everyone as it is. No one wants you to go, believe me, but this is serious."

Shawn's mood quickly soured. He leaned far back in his uncomfortable interrogation chair and stared blankly at the ceiling. It was these moments that gave Juliet clarification that there was indeed something boiling beneath that quirky personality of his. Before Juliet could open her mouth, Shawn opened his, as if reading her mind. "Don't make me go, Jules."

She looked down at her hands. "I'm sorry Shawn. You made a suicide attempt, a public one at that." Shawn let out a loud groan, already knowing where this was going. He got up and began to pace. She almost didn't want to continue. She'd had to do this to dozens of unstable individuals, but when it came to her boyfriend it felt so wrong. She attempted to harden her face, but he didn't miss the tremble of her lips and the moisture gathering at the edges of her eyes.

"I have to take you into custody so that we can take you to the nearest mental rehabilitation center. Since you're not agreeing to go voluntarily, we will have to commit you involuntarily." Just saying the words were enough to make her breathless. What was worse is that Shawn no longer could look at her. He stared at the two-sided window, as if he could see through it. She took another breath and continued. "You'll have to sign a few—"

"Let's just skip all of this." Shawn growled. He kicked at the chair he once sat in hard enough to flip it onto its side. "Just get the damn papers for me so I can sign my soul away!"

"Shawn…I'm sorry." She placed a timid hand on his shoulder. "Just say you'll go voluntary. If you keep saying you won't then you have to go to court and then you'll have to stay."

"I'd have to stay anyway."

"Shawn, involuntary means that you don't leave until the court says you can." Shawn's body grew rigid. "I know you, it'll be like prison if you never know when you can go home, and you sure as hell won't be able to stand their rules for too long. It's not going to be a game like when you went undercover. Whatever they decide to do to you, we have little say over, and there won't be sugar pills this time."

He shrugged off the hand and turned to face her. "I can't do this with you right now."

"Do you need time to think?"

"I _need_ to go home," Shawn sighed.

"You know we can't let you do that." She glanced from him, then back to the door. "I can leave you here for a few more minutes. It's getting late so I don't think we'll need this room anymore tonight. Is that okay?"

"I don't have many choices do I, Juliet?" His words had a slight bite to them, and she knew he would regret is later but for now it chipped at her heart slowly. "Go to the nut house or sit in the police station for a little longer, which would you prefer?"

"Shawn Spencer," Juliet pointed. "You're upset right now, but that doesn't give you the right to treat me like the bad guy. I'm giving _you_ the choice. If I were the villain here, you would already have been admitted to some shady hospital down the street." She took a large intake of air, and the straightened herself. "Now, I'm going to leave and come back in exactly thirty minutes. Buzz will be guarding the door so don't even try to sneak out of here." She cleared her throat. "Would you like to say anything else before I go?" She waited, but nothing came. "Good. I hope you come to a solution that works best for you."

She spun and all but ran out the door, skirting past Buzz's concerned gaze.

* * *

Exactly thirty minutes later, the female detective stood prone outside the door. She leaned her head against it momentarily before plucking up courage to go back in to see her irritated boyfriend. She pushed the door open almost as if it were fragile. "I'm back," Juliet announced. She was surprised with an immediate answer.

"Go get the papers, I'll sign them, and then you can cuff me and take me wherever you want." Juliet stood prone, silent, and staring into his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Voluntary or involuntary?" She asked.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he finally answered. "Voluntary?"

A happy squeal brought the smile back to his face, and he allowed Juliet to jump up and wrap her arms around his neck. She pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. But, when she pulled back he noticed her trembling lips, and her shaking eyes as she looked up into his own. "I don't want you to go."

"God, Jules I feel like I'm Marlowe and you're a much sexier, less hairy, Lassie. Can we just elope to Mexico? Maybe Lloyd can set us up with someone who can help us and not want to kill us. Maybe break out Harold and Kumar style?"

"As much as I would love to run with you across the Mexican border and test Lloyd's shady contacts, I have a stable job, and so do you, Shawn."

"If we Bonnie and Clyde it up, we could have a stable job," Shawn tempted. "I've always wanted to reenact that movie with a beautiful girl like you by my side."

"Nice try but no."

Shawn made a tsking sound through his teeth. "Man, Gus would've done it!"

"Gus is your beautiful girl? Shawn, I'm offended."

For a long moment, they stood together in a tight hug that neither wanted to end. They both knew that if it did, that would mean their time was up and they would have to pack up his things and go for a ride.

"I'll visit you whenever I can."

"I know."

"I'll bring pineapple smoothies."

"I'd love that, Jules."

"I'll even water your plants."

"Gus can do that."

"I'll bring some games."

"I knew there was a good reason for dating you."

Juliet leaned back, mock confusion written on her face. "I thought it was for washing your clothes because for some reason you can never separate lights from colors?

"I don't believe in segregation, Jules. Colors should be mixed with lights so that they can make mixed babies." Shawn chuckled and hugged his girl closer. He leaned down to kiss her neck. "And yes, that too," he admitted. "Plus, you reminded me to pack extra underwear without even saying it. You're good."

Juliet tapped her head, "I'm psychic. Don't forget that, Mr. Spencer."

"Yes, Psychic Detective O'Hara." Shawn chuckled.

"Now let's get going."

"Wait, you didn't let me tell you the real reason."

Juliet smiled. "Oh? So what is it then?"

"Because, you complete me like milk completes an Oreo cookie."

"Really Shawn? That's so cheesy."

"Really?" Shawn said with mock surprise, "Because I thought the Oreo cookie thing counter-balanced the cheesy part pretty well." He watched Juliet's eyes light up as she continued to listen to his ridiculous attempts at expressing his feelings. "Fine, because you…you're the Robin to my Batman, the Dicaprio to my Leonardo…or is that one the other way around?"

Juliet's laugh rang throughout the small interrogation room. She shook her head and stared up at her boyfriend, conflicted as to whether she should kiss him into silence or continue to playfully mock his admissions of love. "Wait, shouldn't Robin be Gus, not me?"

Shawn shook his head mirthfully and continued, "Juliet O'Hara, you make my life so much better than Gus, Robin and the awesomeness that is Despereaux combined."

"Hmm, you're comparing me to a criminal, a fictional character, and Gus." The blonde detective paused but then leaned forward and up onto her tiptoes to press a warm kiss upon Shawn's slightly chapped lips. Juliet leaned close to his ear to whisper, "I'll take that, but only because I know how much you love Despereaux. Now let's go before Carlton decides to join our conversation."

Shawn took Juliet's hand in his and followed her through the station. He asked, "No paperwork?"

"We'll deal with it later."

* * *

Packing had taken longer than expected. Once Shawn got wind of the potential length of his stay, he'd tried to stuff nearly every item from their home into his suitcase. They later had to repack everything to make sure he'd remembered his hair gel, because God forbid he go two weeks without having amazing hair. By the time they'd stepped through the front doors of the place she all but threw him at the doctors.

"Wait, I think I forgot my baby shampoo!" Shawn cried.

"It's in the front suitcase pocket, on the left," she answered with exasperation.

"My toothbrush! I left it on the counter!"

"Inside, middle pocket."

"Gameboy?"

"No electronics, remember? We discussed this." Now he was just fishing for excuses to leave. Juliet huffed and crossed her arms.

"Oh well, guess we better find a place that does allow it!" Shawn grabbed her arm to lead her back out the doors. "I think I know one about an hour from here, but we might want to check the address online. You paid the internet bill, right? Guess we're going home until we can find a hospital that allows electronics."

Juliet pulled away from his light grip and held his face in her hands, forcing him to stare at her. "You're scared," she stated.

His wandering eyes told her everything his lips could not. "Scared for Princess Peach, Jules. How will I help Mario save her from Bowser if I can't have my Gameboy?"

"Oh, Shawn." The young detective shook her head. "You'll be fine and so will Princess Peach, but just in case…" She leaned up to whisper into his ear quickly before the Doctors came to admit him. "Inner pocket, to the back, in between your change of boxers."

Shawn's eyes widened. "Juliet O'Hara, I love you so much right now!"

Juliet winked. "I know."

"Mr. Spencer, we've been waiting for you." Great, the men in white coats had finally gotten wind of the couple bickering in the lobby. "And you must be the responding officer."

The man held out his hand and she hesitatingly obliged. "Yes, Detective O'Hara."

"Responding officer?" Shawn whispered in her ear.

"I was the first to get to you." She turned back to the Doctor after Shawn gave a nod.

The Doctor glanced between them suspiciously. "You know each other personally?"

"We're colleagues." "She's my girlfriend." Both answered at the same time.

"Colleagues? Really? Why do I never get the memo whenever I've been downgraded?" Shawn complained.

"Hmm…so this is both personal and professional." The strange man held up a clipboard and scribbled a few hidden notes into it.

Shawn already felt uncomfortable, he hated being scrutinized and this would be two weeks of just that. _Perfect. Just perfect_. "What are you writing?" Shawn asked, scooting closer.

"Just taking notes," the Doctor answered distractedly.

"About me?"

"Yes, but they're preliminary, nothing to fret about."

"I don't know Doc, it's a little strange that you're so interested in my girlfriend."

"I'm just noting your relationship status."

"What? Is that a tablet? Just so you know I don't like displaying my relationship status on Facebook, and I'm not friending you so that you can stalk my pictures and status updates." A sharp nudge in his side gave Shawn the hint to shut up.

Juliet spoke up, "I am so sorry. He can be a little difficult sometimes."

"Oh, don't worry, Detective." The doctor smiled. "Your boyfriend seems to be very entertaining. I'm sure Shawn and I will have plenty of fun while he's here."

A scoff from the side said otherwise. "You hear that, Jules? Fun." Shawn rolled his eyes and leaned down to hiss in Juliet's ear. "As fun as 'One Who Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest'. Don't leave me here! I _will_ break out!"

Juliet's blue eyes darkened and narrowed into a sharp glare. "If you break out, I swear I'll take you somewhere you can really compare to the 'Cuckoo's Nest'."

Her boyfriend groaned loudly and puckered out his bottom lip to form a pout. When Juliet turned away he groaned louder, this time as if she were killing him slowly. No dice. When the Orderlies moved to take him away, he stamped his foot hard and stormed after them like a child, bags in tow.

* * *

_Next chapter should include...Not sure actually. I know it has Henry. Also thanks again to redwolffclaw~_

_Comments? Questions? Drop me a line via review or PM!_


	3. Chapter 3

_No references to any episodes this time you are SAFE! Also *insert disclaimer saying I don't own Psych here*_

* * *

"Breakfast!"

Shawn lifted his head from his pillow, drool clinging to his face, and then fell forward once more to snuggle with his comforter. He squeezed his eyes shut to try to block out the repeated calls and—They were knocking on doors now. _No. No. No_. The comforter was yanked over his head right as the door to his room burst open.

"Mr. Spencer, breakfast!" the nurse called. He could hear her footsteps round his roommate's bed and stop next to his own. Her hand gently touched his shoulder. "Are you hungry?" The man-shaped bundle groaned and attempted to pull his pillow over his head to block out her voice. "I'll give you a few tips," she said as she sat on the edge of his bed. "We nurses have to take notes on our patients all day. Today you've got me, lucky right?" When she got no response she continued. "We have a chart to mark down if the patient has eaten all three meals for the day, if they've been social, gone to all of the therapy sessions, and how long they've slept that day." She smiled slightly when she saw more signs of life from her patient. "A negative mark on any of those options gives your treating doctor a reason to keep you here longer."

Shawn shot up at those words. "I'm awake! Food here I come!" The nurse moved a hand to cover up her laugh. When he heard this, he stuck his bottom lip out into a pout and crossed his arms across his chest. "I hope you're laughing because you're excited to show me your secret pineapple room. I could go for some of that delicious tropical flavor right now."

"No pineapples, but we do have apples and grapes."

A disgusted look took over Shawn's once happy expression. "All you've got are apples? I've got to get out of here!" He closed his eyes and put a hand to his head just like he would during a psychic reading. "Gus! Gus, use your magic head powers so you can hear me! Break me out, dude! I'm going to starve here!"

"Apples _and_ grapes," the nurse corrected as she stood, staring at him in amusement.

"Right, apples and mini apples," he pouted. Thankfully the nurse didn't bother to correct him this time. He looked back at her before he stepped out into the hall, a sly smirk twitching at his lips. "Any chance I can pay you to say I was a wonderful patient all day?"

"Go!" The woman ordered, pointing.

"_Maaaan_! That's cold!" Shawn threw his head back and his hands in the air in rage, and then stormed out the door. He screamed over his shoulder, "I thought you were one of the cool nurses! I was wrong! You're not cool! Totally not cool!"

* * *

Now that morning activities were over, Shawn could finally settle down and think. For one, this place wasn't so bad. A bit stricter than the place he'd gone undercover in, but still simple and relaxed. The one thing that bothered him the most was how cramped it was compared to the free-roam West Haven Psychiatric Hospital. The doors locked them away from the outside and only officials had the key to freedom. Plus, he had a roommate whom he'd never even met. He could only go by the silly nametag on their door: Shawn S. and Rodney C.

_Who the hell name's their kid Rodney_? _Well…if you put it in perspective, the name Guster still beat Rodney out on the ever growing, 'Why the hell…' list. Rodney didn't even make it to his current top five: Why the hell was he born as Henry Spencer's son? Why the hell would anyone play underwater hockey? Why the hell does Jules refuse to wear the sexy pineapple lingerie he'd bought her? Why the hell hasn't Lassie noticed the rotting mini milk carton he'd hidden in his desk? Why the hell hasn't he demanded he and his 'dad' take a DNA test?_

For the past few hours he'd ignored the man's real name and had gone with 'G-Rod', an abbreviation for 'Ghost Rodney'. He'd never met the man so why not assume he was a ghost? Hell, they'd even slept in the same room and Shawn couldn't remember seeing him that night. The more he thought about it the more his curiosity got the best of him, until finally he sought out a nurse.

"What do you need?" She asked. Her nose was so far into her book he was surprised she hadn't fallen into its pages.

"I would like a roommate change," Shawn stated.

As if memorized, she began to rattle off reasons he might want to switch. "Has he touched you sexually, has he made threats on your life, are you uncomfortable with his diagnosis, have you had a disagreement, are there religious reasons?" She licked a finger and then turned the page to her novel.

"No, I believe he's a ghost."

This got the nurse's attention. "Are you currently on meds or waiting on meds?"

"No, no, don't get me wrong!" Shawn rushed, trying to wave off her suspicious thoughts. "I'm not crazy!" Her brow rose but due to professionalism she remained quiet. "I'm _not_ crazy!" Shawn tried to verify with a more stern tone. "I've just never seen the guy!"

"Rodney?" She asked. Shawn nodded and tracked her pointing finger to a man probably ten years his junior. "Still think your roommate is a ghost?"

Shawn smiled playfully. Consequences be damned. "Yes, in fact I do."

"You've seen him now. You have no reason to believe that he's a ghost."

"But have I physically touched his hand?" The woman hesitated. "The answer is 'no', therefore G-Rod is still my ghost roommate until I can prove he's a solid human being." He let out an inner whoop of joy when he saw that, even as he walked away, the nurse had yet to get back to her reading. Instead, she took to staring after him and blinking as if waking from some strange dream.

"Hey, new guy!" Shawn wheeled around to find the voice. Surprisingly, it was Rodney who was waving him over to their three-man group. "You're my roommate! They told us you would be coming!" The fake psychic did a 360 to confirm he was the one being called.

Did hanging out with crazy people legitimately instead of interviewing them for an investigation make him look crazy? If so, pretending he was blind and deaf was totally an option.

"I think you got a weirdo for a roommate," he heard someone laugh. "He's probably talking with his voices."

"Another schizo on our floor," another voice within the group laughed. "Just what we need."

_Seriously? Crazy people making fun of crazy people? Shouldn't this place be more accepting?_ But then again he had just been considering saying some not so accepting words only moments ago.

"I'm not schizophrenic." Shawn smiled politely and joined the group of men. His hands found their way into his robe pockets, not sure what to do with them, or himself in general when they were staring so intently at him. Funny, usually he was the one surveying people, not the other way around.

"We know," Rodney announced. He elegantly shuffled a deck of cards in his hands and led them all to a nearby table. "Herb here's the one with that. You look too normal to have it."

This granted Rodney a playful shove from said schizophrenic. "I'm proud of my voices!"

"Yeah, it's never boring in your head, huh?" Rodney joked. "You should try bipolar. Hearing music? Feeling high on a really good day? The best!"

"If I wanted to hear music and be unreasonably happy I would just smoke weed and listen to my iPod," Herb shot back while adjusting the glasses on his face. One of the other patients at a nearby table bit their lip to muffle their amusement at the sudden bickering.

The fake psychic found that watching the group have a conversation felt comfortable, too comfortable, much more comfortable than he imagined. He'd expected to be able to tease them into confusion because they would be too outside their minds to keep up, but they all looked and acted so…normal. It was nothing like the movies he'd reviewed for his undercover stint. Hell, the guy who heard voices was probably more sane than his dad and Lassie combined.

"What are you in for, kid?" A gruff voice beside him asked. This man, unlike the others at the table, had peppered hair, clearly older than himself.

"What is this a jail show?" Shawn mocked with a kind grin. "_'What are you in for?_'" Shawn repeated with a theatrical edge to his voice. "I never thought I'd personally hear that. Thanks for the experience, man." He leaned back in his chair momentarily, getting lost in a whirlwind of thoughts. "I'm psychic, and no one believes me. They think I'm nuts."

"Tell me my future," the gruff man demanded. He sat back, staring at Shawn, clearly entertained.

"It doesn't work that way," Shawn started in an attempt to get out of showcasing his skills. "I only do the here and now, except Fridays when the spirits tell me what time to pick up my cupcakes without having to wait in line. Oh, or during the Super Bowl when they tell me who's going to win."

"Then that just proves that you belong here for hallucinating that you're a psychic."

Shawn growled lowly in frustration and closed his eyes. He did not need this right now. When he reopened them, he took in every detail of his doubter, leaving no stone unturned and no piece of singed skin unnoticed.

"Huh," Shawn said, putting a finger to his head. "All I'm seeing is fire. That's weird. Fire…Fire and matches." He turned to the man. "You have a fire fetish don't you," Shawn teased. The older man tensed. "It's a propulsion. You have the propulsion to be a firefly."

"Compulsion, and it's firebug not firefly," he was corrected. "Now cut it out, you're giving me the creeps."

"You give me the creeps," Herb mumbled under his breath after the doubter stormed off. "Don't mess around with that guy. He's not right, and that's saying something considering where we are. He should be moved to a different floor. We're just nice to him so he doesn't go ballistic."

Shawn hummed as he took in the information. "What's his name?"

"Robert. That guy goes on rampages just from the thought of losing a card game. I especially hate when it happens during meals," Herb moaned. "A man's gotta eat, and this man hates being interrupted in the middle of a pork sandwich."

"My food list said nothing about pork sandwiches," Shawn whined.

"You're on a special diet," Rodney sang, causing his new roommate to grumble unhappily. "Maybe it's because you're so old."

"Old?" Shawn gasped, holding his heart as if physically wounded. He bounced back quickly. "Man, I have better hair than you _and_ perfect unwrinkled skin. I am not old! You're old!"

"You're old!" Rodney snapped back.

Shawn huffed. "No, you're old!"

"You're old!"

"No, you're—"

"Mr. Spencer."

"Damn it," he cursed. He moved to follow the nurse but kept eye contact with Rodney who was smiling as if he'd won their argument. "You're older than Jurassic Park!" Shawn cried. "No, older than that! Betty White! You're older than Betty White and all of the Golden Girls!" Before he could disappear completely, he took one last jab. "And my hair will always be better than yours! Always!" He rounded the corner to meet his doctor, only to pull back once more. This time, his voice was low and serious rather than a shout. "You're not even human. You will _always_ be a ghost to me!"

Rodney and Herbert waved with bright smiles covering their faces. "Have fun with the doctor," Herbert sang mockingly.

* * *

"Good to see you again, Mr. Spencer. I'm Dr. Thatcher. We weren't properly introduced yesterday."

A none too happy Shawn flopped down in the seat across from his doctor. "My name is Shawn. Save the Mr. Spencer thing for my dad."

"Shawn, how has your stay been so far?"

"Do I look old?"

The doctor paused, looked over at his patient and then let out a laugh. "No, of course not. You're in your thirties, the prime of your life. You're not old."

"The twenties are the prime," Shawn grumbled, crossing his arms as he pouted. "I really am getting old."

"I'm in my late fifties, Shawn. To me, you are full of youth. I would love to go back to your age."

"Oh God," Shawn whined. "One day I'm going to be fifty! I'll look just like my dad except with more hair!"

Thatcher let out a long sigh. "While I can see this is quite distressing for you, I would like to get to the real reason you're here."

"Can I call you Mr. T?"

"Why would you want to do that?" Thatcher pinched his nose and momentarily closed his eyes. "I would prefer Doctor, but if you want to call me Mr. T then I will call you Mr. Spencer."

"Forget it."

"Now," Thatcher shuffled a few papers around on his desk, and then spun around to fully face Shawn. "My records say that you are here due to a suicide attempt. Correct?"

"Incorrect."

"But Shawn, it says right here…"

"It's wrong," he pushed. Shawn shifted in his seat for a moment and then zipped over to a couch on another side of the doctor's office. He hugged a pillow close to his chest. "I was having a vision. Sometimes my visions take control of me and to places I wouldn't normally go. That's what _really_ happened."

"Hmm," the doctor hummed as he scribbled in his notebook. "It also says here that you think you're psychic?"

"I know I'm psychic. I work as a consultant for the SBPD…" He trailed off distractedly, watching the man write in his notebook. "Dude, do you really need to do that? It's like you're writing a book about me. I'm flattered really, but wait until after I leave to fawn over me."

Thatcher blinked and then after tilting his head in thought, placed the notes behind him on his desk. "Better?"

"Thank God."

"You _are_ an interesting one…" Shawn stared at the enthralled man with confusion. "Would you care to expand on what happened? I won't write anything until you step outside the door, promise."

Shawn's muscles tensed, but after nervously licking his lips he continued. "Uh…" His eyes glanced around to find a clock. "How long do we have?"

Thatcher checked his watch. "This is our first time meeting so…about half an hour so I can gather information and make any decisions."

"My food," Shawn shot out. "There was a mistake, I'm on a weird diet."

"I'll fix it once you leave," the older man said simply.

"How much longer do we have?" Shawn's fingers dug into the pillow under his grip.

"Mr. Spencer…"

"Mr. T…"

Thatcher sighed. "Shawn, no time has passed. Please, I just need some information so I can try to help you. We won't get anywhere if you block me out."

"The spirits and I don't need help. We do our job and we do it well. One of them just so happened to get a bit overenthusiastic."

"If you don't give me any information besides talking to spirits and having black outs and visions then I will have to put you on an anti-psychotic," the doctor warned. "I would rather not do something that we both know you don't need."

Shawn groaned loudly and threw the pillow to the side. "I can't get a break around here."

"I'm afraid we can't afford to give our patients breaks. One mistake could cause a lot of problems."

"I don't need medication," Shawn whined and kicked his legs childishly.

"Anti-psychotics it is." Thatcher stood abruptly and Shawn followed suit, his mouth dropping to the floor. "I'll put the order in and you will start on the lowest dosage tonight before bed."

"I don't hear voices!" Shawn spat out something close to word vomit. His hand grabbed out, but just barely missed the doctor's prescription pad.

"Sorry?"

"I don't hear voices," Shawn told him slowly. A shiver surged through his body at the thought of what he'd just done. "I uh…I don't hear the spirits. I just let them lead me from time to time."

"Mr. Spencer…" Thatcher shook his head. "The fact that you claim to be influenced by something in your mind would warrant medication, but lucky for you I'm not giving you a prescription today. It's far too early for those types of decisions." The doctor held up his blank prescription pad with a triumphant grin.

Shawn's face scrunched up in confusion and then went stony at his conclusion. "You were using one of those Psychology tricks, weren't you Mr.T?" Luckily, he'd only half trapped himself into revealing his secret. "How about we never play that game again? I don't like being tricked."

Thatcher sat back in his chair with a playful twinkle in his eyes. "I guarantee no promises. I'm a Psychiatric doctor, experimenting and discovering the mind is my job." He waved and shut the door to his office, granting his uncomfortable patient freedom early.

Shawn nodded his head, his eyes glazed in thought. He hadn't been expecting that from the doctor. He'd gotten him, but that may have been due to his current vulnerability. A small intrigued smirk twitched at his lips. _Not bad for the first meeting._

* * *

_Not my favorite chapter ever, I think it's boring and overall bad. I may have procrastinated in posting it for that reason...I'll put up a better chapter soon hopefully. But ignoring that: THANKS FOR ALL THE NICE REVIEWS! It's really encouraging and pushes me forward. I've never kept up a decent pace at releasing chapters before. If I slow down I'll kick myself so you guys don't have to do it._

_Oh, and I named the dcotor with a T name for a reason. I couldn't help myself. I had to make a Mr.T joke.  
_

_Redwolffclaw you rock my world~_


	4. Chapter 4

_I do not own Psych nor NCIS in any way._

* * *

"My kid did not try to 'off' himself!" Henry stormed angrily through his living room and to the kitchen. He snatched a cold beer out of the fridge and slammed the door shut so hard it bounced back open. The old man growled and kicked it closed. Blazing eyes turned onto Shawn's lifelong friend. "You're all just falling into whatever game Shawn's decided to play this time so he can get your pity. If you would stop over analyzing his actions you'd see what a manipulating idiot Shawn really is. I raised him, I lived with him, and I know when he's just playing around to get attention. He was probably having some sort of 'vision' and couldn't explain his way out of the mess he'd created. I'm surprised he hasn't called me yet to bail him out."

"I don't think Shawn was pretending this time," Gus stated.

"Gus, you of all people should know that—"

"When Lassiter and I got to the roof Shawn's eyes were red. He'd been crying!" Gus blurted out. Those words made his heart clench. "I do know Shawn, he's like a brother to me, and I know that the only time I've seen him that bad was when his mom walked out. He might fake it sometimes, but I think this time it was real." Henry stood in shocked silence for a moment, crossing and uncrossing his arms uncomfortably as Gus continued. "Look, I know that you don't want to think that Shawn would ever try—" Gus swallowed hard, unable to form the words that he'd pushed to the deepest depths of his mind. "But he did. He tried to…to kill himself and I think he needs to hear from you."

"Where is he?" Gus seemed startled at the sudden change of tone from Henry. His harsh demanding voice had become lost and a new, softer one had surfaced. "Where did they take my son?"

"Weston," Gus answered.

Henry nodded and stood, not bothering to say anything else to his son's friend as he made his way upstairs to the attic.

* * *

_Why? _

That was the billion-dollar question that weighed his mind, causing him to lose precious beauty sleep. Why was he here? The darkness that had consumed him was gone now leaving him as normal as he had been before, and for all these people knew he was happy and just trying to overcome his psychic issue. Only he and his doctor knew better.

God, it was only the third day and his legs were twitching with the need to move, to run, to do _something_ other than be babysat and play board games. What was worse is that his legs weren't the only things that were restless. His mind was going wild trying to connect everything, to figure out how he got from relaxing in the Psych office to being forced into this hell, but every time he seemed to come close to a breakthrough his body physically blocked him. His chest clenched tight, his eyes would burn, and the key he'd attempted to use to unlock the darker side of his mind was rejected, causing him to feel that his food would be revisiting him if he tried again.

Having the whole weekend just to think…he'd rather bash his head into a wall until he passed out. His doctor wouldn't be here until Monday to hear about it anyway, and the staff was at its bare minimum.

He decided on making a call instead.

"Jules!" Shawn cried excitedly. He bounced happily on his end even though he knew she couldn't see it. "I just wanted to check up on my very special lady. How are you doing? Are you at home? What are you wearing?"

He heard an over-exaggerated sigh, and Juliet did her best to sound annoyed over her obvious giddiness at his call. "Shawn, it's my day off. I'm in my PJs, eating ice cream like a slob, and watching NCIS reruns."

"Ice cream? Jules, you only eat ice cream when you're having a bad day." Shawn frowned and leaned heavily against the wall next to the phone. His brows furrowed deeply. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

A shaky breath filtered through the speaker, and then a small laugh. "Well my boyfriend isn't here and tonight was supposed to be a date night."

"Oh, sweetheart…I'm so, so sorry." Shawn closed his eyes and mentally cursed himself. She was crying, he could tell by how her breaths began to hitch.

"It's okay, Shawn. Don't worry about me. I want you to worry about yourself and getting better." Juliet sniffled and then attempted to gain control of her quivering voice. "T-This is a terrible episode."

Shawn chuckled, "Tell me about it? In detail Jules! I've seen every episode so if you skim on me I will know and I promise you will be randomly Rick-rolled for a month after I'm out of here." He heard her open her mouth to speak but her cut her off quickly. "Jules, I'm not joking. You know I'll do it. I'll even bring Lassie in on it to add to the miserable factor. He'll complain to you about it for weeks."

"That might make it worth skimming a few details," Juliet smiled. She cleared her throat and then began. "Well…Tony just got back from sick leave a week earlier than he was supposed to and everyone's ignoring him except for Gibbs…"

* * *

Ending that phone call was probably one of his worst experiences so far, and that included when his fellow 'inmates' forced everyone to watch "Eat. Pray. Love"…twice in one night followed by some strange meditation video. He'd tried to escape to save Princess Peach on his Gameboy but got it confiscated when a nurse came in his room to check on him. Now that he thought about it, he'd have to ask Jules to let him borrow hers when she comes to visit.

So, now he sat watching everyone enjoy their visiting hours while he sat alone. Juliet refused to come for some vague reason. All he knew was that it involved a call from Gus. He hadn't thought much of it until a familiar balding figure stepped through the doors.

"Dad?" Shawn blinked. He glanced around them, almost scared to sit down without proper supervision. "Um...hey? How's it like on the outside? Did you see me on the news? The got my good side don't you think? Although the picture they used for me looked more like a mug shot than anything, but the orderlies turned off the TV before I could get a good look. Something about patients not being able to watch certain channels because they're too violent. C'mon son, the news isn't violent!"

"Are you done?"

"I could go on and on." The younger Spencer leaned back in his chair. "For example, did you know the founder of this place was a recovering drug addict? It didn't work. He ended up having to enroll himself in one of his own treatment programs."

"Kiddo, I have a badge and all day to waste sitting here listening to you go on about garbage. So keep talking, my visiting hours won't be ending when everyone else's does."

"Damn it, dad. What?" Shawn frowned and threw his hands in the air. "What did you come here for? If it's to give me a speech then you can save it. I don't know how many 'what the hell were you thinking' speeches I've gotten in the past few days I've been here, but you know what _dad_ I'm up for another. Go ahead, lay it on me."

"They took your necklace," Henry pointed, carefully avoiding Shawn's small explosion.

"Yeah, well that's what happens when you've got one of these." He flashed his dad a red medical bracelet on his wrist. "I asked for a nicer color but they kept saying no. The nurse wouldn't even draw a mini pineapple on it for me. I guess it'd be weird to have a red pineapple though."

Henry ran a rough hand over his face with a sigh. "Suicide watch."

"Is that what it means?" Shawn asked with a hollow laugh and a glare towards his father. "And here I thought it meant something more interesting, like the chance to meet Jackie Chan on the red carpet." His lips formed into a small pout. "I can't even go outside with everyone else when they go for fresh air. I have to pay people to bring me proof of outside life."

"You've only been in here for less than a week, Shawn." Henry pointed out bluntly.

"That doesn't mean I don't miss the sunlight! I'm not a vampire dad."

"Here." A soft, roughly loved teddy bear was thrust into Shawn's hands.

"Mr. Bangles," Shawn gasped, holding him close like an overprotective child.

"I still can't believe you named him that," Henry grunted.

Shawn laughed, sincere this time. "I wouldn't have if you hadn't ripped off the name tag."

"I kept telling you that Bangladesh was the country where he was made, Shawn! Not his name! So what do you do? You name him Bangles anyway. You never listen to me!"

"Mr. Bangles from Bangladesh," Shawn sang and lifted him in the air to do a short dance. "Thanks dad." He then noticed that his dad had made a move to stand. This caused Shawn to flounder in confusion. His head spun around. Visiting hours were still going, at least half an hour left. "Wait, no speech? No questions?"

Henry threw his son a quick look back before shaking his head and allowing the orderlies to unlock the door for him. "Tell me when you're ready, kid."

* * *

_Why? _

Lights out, no TV, games had to be put away, everyone's shuffling off to their rooms to sleep except for him.

_Why am I here? _

Well, he knew that answer…sort of. Shawn clenched his eyes shut and leaned his elbows on the table in front of him, dropping his head to rest in his hands. The faster he figured things out the faster he could get back to Jules.

He gulped. _I tried to jump_. A knot of tension left his body at that elephant finally being acknowledged. The residue of fear from that night clawed at his throat. _Oh my god I tried to jump_. Shawn took a few deep breaths as he came to terms with that fact, but now there was another thing bothering him. A small nagging voice somewhere was disappointed. _Tried is the keyword. Tried and failed, just like usual_. And in an instant he shut his brain down, standing and rushing to go to bed. He couldn't have been any more enthusiastic about shutting his brain off and going to sleep in his life.

Maybe he did need help. It would be great if he just knew how to ask for it.

* * *

Monday morning, Shawn sat alone idly shuffling and re-shuffling a deck of cards. As soon as sunlight hit his eyes he'd jumped out of bed, much to the surprise of the staff who had been expecting at least a few more hours of quiet before everyone else woke up. Before the call for breakfast Shawn managed to: reorganize the activities closet, solve every puzzle, find the missing pieces for said puzzles, alphabetize the movie collection, and help the orderlies wipe down tables for breakfast.

"Mr. Spencer?" His assigned nurse for the day questioned.

"Shawn," he promptly corrected. His foot tapped wildly under the table and his card shuffling grew a tad hastier.

"Sorry, Shawn," she fixed with a worried smile. The woman bent down slightly to rest a hand on his shoulder. "I heard you've been quite active this morning."

Shawn chuckled and paused his mindless movements to make eye contact with her. He flashed her a self-assured smile. "I'm just pumped that it's Monday! So pumped that I could do a shirtless push-up. Only one though, I'm still working on getting to two." He raised his arms and flexed them poorly. "Until then, you can take a picture and keep it in that weird human monitoring cubicle you aliens call the 'Nurses Station'. I mean, c'mon son, everyone should admire this sexy sexiness I have going on. Take some pictures and admire my perfect bod, but no touching! Touching is exclusive to my very beautiful and very sparkly girlfriend."

This drew a laugh from the worried nurse. "Please keep your shirt on Shawn. We wouldn't want your girlfriend getting jealous." He snorted at her response and turned back to his deck of cards. Like before, he shuffled and re-shuffled them but this time with less gusto as if the fast forward button he'd previously been on had been reset to just play. "How are you feeling today?"

The fake psychic shrugged his shoulders. "Great! So good I could be released today!"

"Nice try," the nurse shook her head. "You know…if you want to talk…"

"Talk? Hmm, what did you think about The Avengers? Because personally I thought—"

"About that night." Shawn froze at her words and his muscles wound so tight that his body began to draw into itself. The nurse shuffled nervously beside him. "Your doctor and therapists aren't the only one's who can help. Us nurses aren't around just to hand out medicine, you know."

"Really? And here I was thinking that nurses became nurses for the drugs and not for the other half of their job." He snorted.

"Not all nurses can be drug addicts."

"What about House? He's a doctor and he's a drug addict. Does that mean Dr. Thatcher is too?" Shawn questioned sarcastically.

"No, he is not." The nurse gave him a strained smile, clearly getting annoyed at his tactics. "Just know that you can talk to us."

Shawn hummed to himself and, muscles still tense, went back to his cards. The next time someone called for him he merely turned his chair away and continued on, until the good doctor began seeing patients. An already restless Shawn raced passed the staff and slammed open Thatcher's door.

The door flew back into the wall with a loud bang, causing the doctor to jump out of his chair and to his feet. He blinked in confusion and then watched as the young psychic detective stormed in with a huff, only deflating once he found his favorite spot on the couch. Once again, he hugged a pillow to his chest, tighter than last time.

"I hate it here," Shawn ground out through clenched teeth.

"Shawn, I wasn't expecting you until two—"

"I can't stop thinking," he growled, glaring at the wall ahead of him rather than the doctor. "I can't stop thinking and it's because I'm in here! And now that they showed my face on the news everyone's starting to figure it out."

"You guys aren't allowed to watch the news."

"They were channel flipping and my face popped up," Shawn grumbled hopelessly into his pillow friend.

"And what are they figuring out, Shawn?"

Shawn groaned and lifted the pillow so he could speak clearly. "That my psychic vision led me to the roof and almost made me jump."

Thatcher let out a long sigh. "I'm sure when you say 'psychic vision' you actually mean to say 'depression'."

"Me? Depressed? Yeah right." Shawn laughed but it sounded unsure and held a nervous edge. He tried to crack a joke. "As depressed as one of those wacky waving arm men outside car dealerships. Have you seen those things? I love 'em."

Since he suspected his unexpected patient wouldn't be leaving any time soon, Thatcher decided to close the door and take a seat. Honestly, this was the most he'd ever gotten out of Shawn about the subject at hand rather than about TV shows and movies. His fingers twitched with need to grab his notebook, but quickly drew back when he saw Shawn watching him, daring him to do it.

"Depression is completely normal," Thatcher said, moving to crossing his legs and facing Shawn fully instead of taking notes. "Everyone has bouts of it from time to time."

"Not everyone tries to jump off a building," Shawn grumbled under his breath.

"Hmm?"

"Look can you get me out of here? I'm not crazy but I will be soon if I have to stay."

"You're stuck with us for a while, Shawn. Especially since you decided to skip breakfast and morning therapy."

"Oh come on! You were waiting for me to screw up weren't you?" Shawn spat, bolting up into an enraged stance. He began to pace around the room, eyes dark with growing frustration. His body shook with suppressed energy that ached to be released and the closest thing he had was his voice or his strength. Knocking around and breaking things in a doctor's office probably wouldn't be good on his record right now and biting his tongue was beginning to hurt.

"What," Shawn seethed. "Will get me out of here the fastest?"

"Medication." Thatcher answered almost immediately. "Right now you would probably do best on depression and anxiety medication. The anxiety medication might help keep one of these events from happening again. I'd really like to keep my door intact."

"Medication?" Shawn's nose scrunched up and he tried the word a few more times on his lips. No matter how many times he tried it, it still sounded wrong. If it got him out and back to Juliet faster though, he would…try. He took a deep breath and prepared for the plunge. "Okay, what are we talking about? Mind you, my friend Magic Head McGee is an expert on drugs. Did you know he sells them to people? That's how he got his car."

Thatcher's brow rose and he gave Shawn a long look before turning to his computer. "The medications I'm giving you now aren't the type you find on the street…usually. I'm afraid your friend's expertise will be wasted."

Shawn choked back a laugh. "Don't be silly Mr.T! My Gussy Puss isn't into street drugs. He sells his kind of drugs to people like you."

"A rep," the doctor stated flatly, holding back the urge to roll his eyes at the way Shawn described his friend. He shook his head and began the process to activate Shawn's medication trial. "Two different jobs, Mr. Spencer, and in some ways two different worlds entirely." Thatcher swiveled around in his chair to face Shawn. "Now, let's talk about possible side-effects, shall we?"

* * *

_Another chapter done~ I hope you like this one, I'm much happier with this one than the last. I think I enjoy writing out of control Shawn far too much. Oh! NCIS fans! The episode that I briefly mentioned in this chapter is actually pretty damn good. I just chose the first episode I saw in my boxset and rolled with it. It's not terrible, watch it! Season 2!_

_Any thoughts, comments, suggestions, those are all welcome and encouraged! Especially since this is my last pre-written chapter..._


	5. Chapter 5

**I don't own Psych**

* * *

"Dude, they have me on something called Ativan, so much better than the other thing they put me on. That one's supposed to kick in about two weeks but this, this is instant!" Shawn moaned happily. "Gus, buddy, I feel like I'm on an inner tube floating down the lazy river. It's great!"

"It's addictive is what it is," Gus shot back with a frown. He pushed himself in to be closer to the round table before him. He wanted to have a more private conversation with his friend but apparently it was almost impossible. All the other guests had taken the tables hidden in the corners before he'd even shown up. "And you have an addictive personality. Where is your doctor? I need to talk with him."

Shawn reached out quickly to grab onto his friend, shouting out something incomprehensible in his panic at the thought of Gus talking to his doctor. "It's fine. I'm fine."

"You don't need Ativan, Shawn."

Shawn clicked his teeth in irritation. "_Maaan_ how would you know?"

Gus shook his best friend off and promptly fixed his suit before answering slowly. "I'm your best friend, Shawn. I've never seen you have a single anxiety attack, and you've never showed any signs of needing something like this. If anything I should be the one that needs it because I have to deal with you doing stupid things and giving me panic attacks."

"Trust me, Gus. I need it," Shawn admitted reluctantly. He was happy that the medicine worked but it also carried some shame along with it. Why else would it work if he weren't crazy? To him it was painful damning evidence. Yeah, he wanted this as a kid to get out of school projects, but now…now was so different. He ran a hand through his already mussed hair, making it worse. For some reason he'd been far too tired to get up and style it like usual, and by the time he had mustered enough up energy it was time for the day's activities. "Look, don't tell anyone about this okay? I just…it shuts down a part of my brain and I like that, a lot."

"Shawn." The sales rep took time to choose his words – like always – knowing now that they were now on shaky ground. Gus' body was as tense as it had been years ago when he and Shawn would play don't break the ice. It was always on his turn that things went downhill, but he couldn't shy away now that Shawn was giving him a small but rare glimpse at his serious side. "Shawn, shutting off your brain is not what the medications are supposed to do. I don't want you to try to hurt yourself again, but I'm not going to let you substitute therapy for medication so you don't have to face your problems."

"I'm not substituting anything! Although I do plan on substituting Luigi for Bowser next time we play Mario Kart. Besides, it's not all of my brain. It's just the part that got me here in the first place, but it sucks that it wears off so fast and they won't give me anymore afterward. Something about it being recommended to wait a few hours."

"You're becoming addicted," Gus groaned.

"Am not!" Shawn shot back defensively. "If you were floating on the lazy river with me you would understand! Besides, if I have to take this crap I might as well try to enjoy it."

"'_Enjoying_' medicine is something an addict would say, Shawn."

Shawn slammed a fist down onto their table. "I can't do this with you right now!"

"Fine. Fine Shawn. We won't talk about the super addictive medicine you're abusing," Gus said with a sharp jab. He wasn't going down without a fight, not with something like this. "Instead, let's talk about the medicine you can't possibly abuse."

Shawn snorted and crossed his arms defensively over his chest before leaning back in his chair. "It's stupid. I'm always tired, in fact once you leave I'll probably take a nap." His eyes flit over to his shared room longingly. "Or you could leave early."

"I am _not_ leaving early. Do know how much extra time I have to put in to work now that I have to support Psych without the money we get from solving cases until you get back? I opened my schedule up for you Shawn. I am not leaving early."

"You'll have to keep doing that for a while…" Shawn mumbled quietly.

"Shawn…"

"I…_may_ or _may not_…be skipping meals and sessions so I can sleep…" He admitted to his friend with shame.

"Shawn…" Gus growled.

"And…I _may_ or _may not_ have received an extended stay for it…"

"Shawn!"

"I'm sorry, okay! I couldn't wake up in time and then when I did wake up to go to group therapy I just fell asleep while listening to everyone talk about their boring lives. Phil needs to just move out of his grandparents' house and stay with his boyfriend instead! I don't know how many times I can listen to him whine about the same thing! It's obvious!" Shawn pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes and tried to come down from his sudden outburst. He sighed and focused back to Gus. "Gus, buddy…I can't help it right now. Believe me, I'm trying. This isn't my fault this time!"

Shawn must have looked truly guilty because his best friend's mouth snapped shut, and everything Gus had wanted to say seemed to melt away, taking any frustrated feelings with it. Now, Gus merely stared at his friend who looked so vulnerable now that he stopped their nitpicky argument and took time to really _see_ Shawn.

Gus had come to visit the second day after Shawn arrived. Back when this was a passing joke to Shawn, but now things were getting serious. That day Shawn had looked well groomed as always, but now he apparently didn't have the time of day to even check his hair. If Shawn from just over a week ago could see himself now…

"It's not your fault," Gus agreed with a slight nod. "And until they figure out what's right for you I'll stand by you no matter what."

Shawn laid his head on the table and smiled weakly up at him. "Thanks buddy. Once I'm back on my feet I'll make you some pineapple upside-down cake in celebration of our eternal bromance."

"I could do without that." Gus then sighed and reached over to pull up the robe that threatened to slip down Shawn's shoulder. "You do know Juliet's on her way, right?"

"What!" Shawn snapped into action. He sprung to his feet and dashed for his room to grab his hair supplies. "You couldn't have told me before now?"

"I was too busy worrying about your ass!" Gus shouted over the other visiting guests, granting him a few strange stares.

The fake psychic froze mid-jog, a cat-like grin spreading across his face. He spun around so his rear faced Gus. "Like what you see? Is it as fine as we both know it is? Maybe I should lift the robe so you can get a better look—"

"Shawn!"

Shawn strolled over and pat Gus on the head. "It's okay my very black, very bald friend, I understand that sometimes your love for me cannot be contained. Let it out and continue to obsess over my ass if you feel the need to do so."

"Tch, c'mon son. I'd rather look at Lassiter's ass," Gus retorted, far from thrilled with Shawn's game. He perked up in his chair in embarrassment and looked wide-eyed at his best friend. "I mean—I was making a joke! I'd never—I was trying to say—You know I have a girlfriend, Shawn!" In an attempt at distraction from the awkward conversation he turned towards the door and plastered a fake smile on his face. "Hey Juliet!" Shawn let out a quiet curse and sped towards the bathroom. This time a real smile twitched at Gus' lips. Juliet wouldn't be there for another five minutes, but a sleepy-eyed Spencer knew none the better.

* * *

"If you're trying to sabotage both my relationship with my girlfriend and my ability to leave, you're doing spectacular," Shawn spat glaring hard at his confused doctor. It would have been more threatening, but the old teddy bear that was currently being squeezed so hard it threatened to burst just made Shawn look like a pouting child. And the way he sat brooding on the sofa made him look no more adult-like.

"I take it you're referring to what the nurses have been telling me about." The doctor answered. "Drowsiness is a side-effect of _both_ medications you are taking. We discussed this."

"I fell asleep during visiting hours with my girlfriend!" Shawn yelled. "My _girlfriend_ who is a _cop_ and rarely gets time off to see me!"

"I'm sure she—"

The enraged Spencer cut him off to fill in the sentence. "_She_ deserves better than that! I played your game and took these things and now I'm done. I don't want anymore."

"Shawn, I told you about the drowsiness and I told you that you would have to fight through it. You said you would fight it and go to the meetings and the meals."

He was answered with a sneer and icy words. "Why don't you take my pills for me then, _doc_? Then we'll see how well _you_ do at staying awake when the Sandman is hovering over you, sprinkling his sleepy fairy dust over your balding little doctor head."

Thatcher scratched said balding head and then turned silently to search through his computer. He could feel Shawn's eyes drilling into him, dark, angry, and impatient with him and the rest of the hospital. "I can switch your current depression medication with another."

"No."

"You can try to tough out the side-effects of your current medication for a few more days. That allows us to see if this will be a lasting problem or if it's your body trying to adjust."

"No."

"Become more active in therapy."

"I'm not feelin' the whole 'how does that make you feel?' vibe." Especially since the patients in this hospital seemed more coherent than at Shady Grove, probably because they separated the illnesses into different units.

Better coherency led to asking more than surface questions about his life, harder questions about his life would wake up the part of his brain the meds was quieting, thinking too much led to '_depression_' - which he still wasn't convinced his has – and '_depression_' led to doing things like trying to jump off a building. No, he didn't need that, and the last thing he needed was his already nosey roommate cranking his nosey level up to full throttle.

"You can refuse treatment and risk potentially sticking around with us for longer."

"Pfft, what? No!" Shawn shouted. "Are those seriously the only options?"

"Well, yes, seeing as you refuse to talk about what might have caused your episode last week. The therapists can't guess what's wrong unless you talk to them and as a doctor I specialize in medicine. Fixing the chemicals in your brain is my job and fixing life problems that may hinder the progress made by fixing those chemicals is a therapist's job. Right now you're not helping anyone help you and that's made treatment options difficult," Thatcher lectured sternly.

He was almost certain Shawn, who'd gone silent, had merely tuned him out for the sake of trying to get his way, but he was surprised to find a contemplative adult sitting on his couch rather than a pouting child. The doctor spoke again, "You understand?"

Shawn nodded slowly with a pained grimace. "C-Can I just stick with the stuff I'm already on?"

"Of course," Thatcher answered gently.

"And can I not get in trouble if I can't wake up in time for breakfast?" The younger man continued in a small voice. "That's been the worst time for me."

"At least make it to the group meeting after that and we have a deal."

"Deal…" Shawn paused and then tried to push further. "But…if I can't make it to that either…"

"No deal. If you don't show up to those meetings I'll limit your phone calls." Shawn gasped loudly and opened his mouth to speak only to flounder about helplessly. "That's the deal. Take it or leave it." Thatcher shrugged. "Goodbye Mr. Spencer, I'll see you on Monday."

* * *

_This chapter has been done for SO long...like a month or so. Beta'd and everything. Sorry life happened...and then Tumblr...  
_

_But hey it's here now! I'm not completely happy with it, but it's here. Tell me what you think? Am I on a satisfying path? Should I change what I'm doing? Let me know. Cuz seriously how insecure do you think I am? Pffft. No seriously tell me. How insecure do you think I am? *If you psych-o's don't know where that is from then something is wrong with you all*_


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